


Take Me By the Hand - But Let Me Grab My Beer First

by buckytheplumsoldier



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Implied Smut, M/M, Markiplier - Freeform, drunk otp is the best otp, jacksepticeye - Freeform, philosophical jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckytheplumsoldier/pseuds/buckytheplumsoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Have you ever thought of your decision for coming here?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me By the Hand - But Let Me Grab My Beer First

"Have you ever thought of your decision for coming here?"

Mark raised an eyebrow at the individual beside him, who had not sat down just ten seconds before speaking. The dark lights hid any visuals of the person, but judging by his raspy voice and thick accent, he was definitely not from around here.

He raised his glass to his lips, the spicy scent of whiskey hitting him before the taste did. With the glass, now empty, back on the counter, he responded, "Well isn't that a bit philosophical for a bar?"

The silhouette merely shrugged before he, too, took a sip of his much larger beer glass. "I suppose. But it makes you think doesn't it? Of why you and I are here and not at our respective homes. Why we chose to come here of all places instead of that strip club down the block."

Vaguely shuddering at the mention of the notorious gentleman's club, Mark folded his hands and stared at the shot glass. "You're drunk, aren't you?" After all, anyone in their right mind would never go up to a stranger at a bar and blurt out the deep meanings and choices of life. 

"Reasonably so. I take personal pride in it, if I'm honest."

Mark chuckled, raising his head and beckoning the bartender for a refill. A few seconds passed as the tiny glass was filled with amber liquid before there was another question. 

"How about you?"

Mark took hold of the glass, swirling the whiskey and studying the golden vortex it seemed to have created. "What about me?" He took a swig.

The man coughed for a few moments, then cleared his throat. Mark supposed the alcohol was starting to get to him, as if it hadn't done so already. "Aren't you drunk, as well?"

He did feel a bit dizzy and his stomach was beginning to plead in protest to the many shots he'd already taken, but he couldn't exactly say he was drunk. Tipsy was more like it. "Not very much. I think I might be in a bit, though." He didn't think he could stop with the shots just yet. He came to get his mind off of things and that was what he planned on doing. He supposed that was his reasoning for being there.

The man nodded and kept quiet. It wasn't exactly an awkward silence, but a comfortable one, and it felt decent to have a silent agreement to not speak. Mark could only withstand just a few more shots, however, before his eyes went completely dry and he was rubbing them at every second. 

"I think I might call it a night." The stool beside him slid, making an ear-screeching sound that thankfully couldn't be heard over the conversations among the other people in the building and the soft music overlaying. 

Mark turned to face the silhouette, who seemed to be fishing something out of a possible wallet and placing bills on the counter, which were swiftly collected by the bartender. His drunken mind told him to beg the man to stay awhile, that he would be useful company, but the small portion of his brain that was still sober told him to let the man go, that he probably had a family or at least a partner to get home to. 

"You're not really fit to walk at a late time like this." 

Mark supposed his argument seemed somewhat valid. In fact, he doubted either of them were in good shape to go travelling alone. 

"It's not a bother, I'm sure I can make it home in one piece." 

"No, really." Somehow, Mark's hand was on the man's wrist and the two were up close, to the point where the deep exhales could be heard. Mark could make out the bluest of eyes, making his heart drop in something he couldn't detect. "If anything, I might be in better shape than you. It's best if we stick together, for our safety, of course." Not because I'm strangely attracted to you.

The other sighed, the sharp odor of beer coming off of his lips, then nodded. 

\- これは何を意味します -

Mark didn't know when the assumption was made, but the decision to walk to his own apartment and end up in his bedroom was never mentioned between the two, yet silently agreed upon. It was the awkward silence, but better. 

The two were laying on their backs, sweaty bodies tangled in the white sheets. Mark's head was pounding, but it was clouded with the thoughts of what happened moments before and the amazing visuals bestowed upon him. 

To be fair, his goal for the evening was to take his mind off of certain aspects and that was indeed accomplished, though not in the way he assumed. Sean was asleep - or so it seemed -beside him, tuft, green hair appearing silver due to the sliver of moonlight peeking from the curtains. Even if he wasn't asleep, Mark could marvel at the expression of calm serenity. 

"You're looking at me." 

Sean peeked open an eye, a crystal blue one, mind you, and exhaled, the corner of his lip lifting upward. 

"Well isn't that a cliche." Mark ignored the pounding in his head, the early signs of a hangover, and reached forward, grasping Sean's hand with his own. If this is what cliches meant, Mark supposed he could put up with some for a little while longer.


End file.
